


Red Lights

by HeartofIceCream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Could be Wincest, Gen, Sick!Dean, Song fic, dying!dean, hurt!Dean, if you really squint, upset!sam, very angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:18:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartofIceCream/pseuds/HeartofIceCream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is sick, so sick he can't breathe and his whole body aches and he knows he'd dying. No one knows what it is that's killing the older Winchester, but they're searching. They're trying to find a cure for him, but will they?</p><p>Song Fic for Red Lights by Vib Gyor</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Lights

**Author's Note:**

> This is song fic based around the song Red Lights by Vib Gyor.  
> Also my first fic posted on here. Yay!  
> Have fun with the angst.

Dean was on one side of the glass and the rest of the world was trapped on the other side, but he’d never felt less alone. He felt like he was dying as painful coughs racked his body and fever burned through his veins; but every time he had a coughing fit, someone came to the other side of the glass to reassure him that it was going to be alright. No matter how much he cursed and mocked them for the calm reassurances, they made him feel better, made him feel like maybe he could live through this, whatever it was.

He was sick, badly sick with a curse that they couldn’t find and they didn’t know how to heal. Sam was reading through every book he could find, searching for anything about a sickness that destroyed a man from the inside out. Bobby was calling each and every one of his contacts, seeing if any of them had encountered anything like it before. Cas searched heaven and earth, trying to find if there was anything in any record that could save the older Winchester.

But no matter how hard they searched, every time they walked back up to the glass, faces downcast with body language that screamed ‘I’m sorry’, the news was the same. “We haven’t found anything yet, but we’re still looking. We’ll find something. I swear.” Every time he heard the tremor in Sam’s voice, the crack in Bobby’s, or the roughness of Cas’s, he felt like his heart was breaking.

It wasn’t that he was afraid to die, not at all. He’d done it a million times before and the concept wasn’t anything mysterious, even if this did feel so much more permanent. Though sometimes, despite the fact that he’d never admit it to anyone, death seemed like a welcome blessing. When the whole world was aching and screaming and begging to be saved and when so much weight was put on his shoulders that he felt he might crumble, sometimes he would beg for an end. He didn’t want to die, but he wanted relief from the never-ending pressure.

So each time that he heard they hadn’t made any more progress, his heart broke. But it didn’t break for himself. It broke for Bobby, who had to watch the man he’d all but raised die slowly. It broke for Cas, who rebelled, fought, and even braved the fires of Hell for a man who was trapped behind a glass wall, leaving the angel helpless to stop his passing. And it broke for Sam, his little brother, the most important thing in his whole universe, who would be left, not alone because he would still have Cas and Bobby, but so much would be missing from part of his heart that he would never be whole.

When he heard the cautious approach of footsteps, he shifted to sit up, groaning as his burning muscles protested. As Sam rounded the corner, his gaunt face and trembling hands told Dean everything he needed to know. The older Winchester nodded softly, looking down at his lap. Sam bit his lip, looking almost guilty. 

“It’s gonna be alright, Dean. Bobby and Cas are still looking. We’ll find something; you just gotta give us time.” Sam assured his brother, cursing the tremble of his voice, the way his voice crumbled on the word ‘time’. Because that was the one thing they didn’t have; time.

Dean shook his head, looking back up at the younger Winchester. “It’s alright, Sammy. You don’t have to lie to me. I know I’m going to die and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He said honestly. “It’s fine. I’m okay. I’ll just…come back again. Don’t I always?” He joked, smile fading as coughs ripped through him, destroying his body in a way that he knew would leave him unable to return to it.

Sam sighed sadly, sitting down on the seat beside the glass. Exhaustion and guilt was written across every inch of his features, from the bags under his eyes to the surrendered arch of his back. “Don’t say that, Dean. You’ll be fine. I’m not gonna let you die. Okay?” His voice was determined, despite the way it cracked. 

Dean shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable despite the aching of his bones. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m not scared. You just gotta let me go. Maybe I’ll even make it into heaven.” He chuckled softly. “Wouldn’t that be nice? I could share a beer with Pamela and Ash. Maybe I’ll find Ellen and Jo. I wonder who else is wandering around up there.” He mused, smiling gently. “I won’t be alone. I’ll be fine, just sitting at the Roadhouse, waiting for you to show up. But you better not come too fast and spoil my fun.” He laughed, even though he was so scared he’d end up in Hell.

Sam shook his head, sitting up straighter and turning towards Dean. He pressed his hand flat up against the glass, frustrated at the tears that threatened. “Shut up. Just shut up. You’re not going anywhere. I’m not gonna let go. I’m not going to stop searching and neither are Cas and Bobby. If you’d only hold on, there’s no way I’m letting go. I promise. I won’t go through it again.”

Dean smiled gently, another coughing fit ripping through his lungs. He felt weaker, more tired than he had before. He weakly raised his hand up to meet his brother’s, fingers curling loosely against the glass. “I feel cold, Sammy.” He said, shuddering breaths slipping from between his lips. “Please…just let go…I’m letting go…don’t hold onto me once I’m gone. Just live your life, Sammy.” He murmured, hand slipping off the glass to fall limply by his side. One last shudder washed over him and he was gone, the light fading from bright green eyes.

“No. No. No. No. No. Dean. Please. No. Come back.” Sam pleaded, banging on the glass as tears spilled onto his cheeks. “No!” He gave one last defiant shout before he crumpled into himself. He didn’t look up when the door opened and he didn’t see the triumph that died on Cas’s lips at the sight behind the glass.


End file.
